


The Lion and His Cage

by EmilyElm



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 20:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5179331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyElm/pseuds/EmilyElm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham's transformation from lamb into lion, starting in 309 when he visits Hannibal in the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane and ending before the 4th season (yes, one must hope).  He does not realize that the Dragon case is just a pretense to feast his eyes upon his beloved.  As the case develops, Will begins to change and so does everyone around him.  The fall off the cliff is a literal endeavor that Will has planned well in advance.  The Lecter family is ambivalent towards saving Hannibal, but eventually provide an island sanctuary to allow Hannibal to recover from the Dragon's wounds.  Will is afraid that once Hannibal awakens, the fallout from the cliff will endanger the place he's in now -- where he finally wants to accept being in a relationship with Hannibal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Be Brave

**Author's Note:**

> This breaks a bit from Season 3 and I'd love to delve into Season 4. But let's see first how this is received.

He craves change.  


He doesn’t realize that’s what he wanted when he gave in to Jack’s hounding him back on a case.  


Or maybe that’s a lie too, like the one he created with Molly and Walter. His true shame is in understanding why Hannibal gave Dolarhyde his address. Will knows it’s because he would never find the courage to leave them. He couldn’t admit it to himself how much he wanted to be with Hannibal. To admit it out loud to her? Impossible.  


Hannibal gives the needed push to get her to leave first. The home invasion is just a cover, all to protect Will from the web of lies he’d created for himself.  


Hannibal doesn’t need a cover. Maybe once, a long time ago, he had. But times have changed too.  


Now, he has no filter. He is direct about his desire for Will. Brazen about it, in fact.  


Will does not have that luxury. There are conventions in place. Appearances. He is still, stunningly, working for the FBI.  


Hannibal blatantly asks Will not to go home. To stay in Baltimore and remain with him. He has left it, again, for Will to decide to join him. His stomach churns at the thought.  


How would it look if he didn’t?  


Before the home invasion, every night, like a good husband, he calls Molly when he returns to the motel and tells her about his day. She doesn’t know how it took everything to set aside his thoughts of how incredible it was to see Hannibal, how the cheap bed creaked as he fantasized about Hannibal’s hands stroking him. How on edge Hannibal makes him, in every single way. He can feel his blood pumping through his veins long after he leaves the glass cell.  


He wishes Molly would focus on soothing his fractured mind. But she’s wrapped up in their simple life. His fantasy is like a mistress waiting in the wings of their marriage. Where everyone is able to pretend, but Hannibal, threatening to make his entrance into the zoo.  


+++  


Will stands before Jack, resplendent after receiving his first feast after three years.  


Three years in captivity. A jail he created of his own making – to remain separated from his husband.  


No one can say he didn’t try. No one can say Jack found him a broken man. Will had been determined to survive Hannibal after he surrendered. He ate. He slept. He remarried.  


Maybe he tried too hard to pretend that Hannibal was dead to him.  


Bedelia is proof that survival is possible, with dazzling results. As much as he hated her, Will would give her that. Her speaking engagements alone bring in six figures. Her consultations and TV appearances have made her rich and famous, but the sight of her pity tour, as he calls it, makes him sick. The distinction being Will made a conscious effort not to benefit from his association with Hannibal. What they had was private.  


And yet even Hannibal tosses privacy in the wind when he stands across from Will. He knows Alana is listening. Watching.  


Still, he struts toward Will, like a peacock completing his courting ritual, spreading his extravagant plumage for all to see. His usual gorgeous mane of hair shorn horribly. His colorful ensemble gone. If Will could toss the professional shackles aside, he would have told him, breathless, how beautiful he looks. How he doesn’t need any adornment. He must know that a peacock’s natural predator is a mongoose.  


Will cannot take his eyes off of him. Even if he had wanted to, he doesn’t think he could have done it.  


He is lost in Hannibal’s presence. It takes all of his concentration not to throw himself at the glass and scream about what a mistake he’s made.  


Despite all the magnetism radiating from Hannibal, he plainly hands over to Will all the power in their twisted, obsessive dynamic. Will’s presence is a gift, his parting torture. Will can at least pretend he doesn’t need to drink him in. Hannibal, however, looks how Will feels.  


In hindsight, they can only blame themselves for being unfulfilled. The whispers about them being lovers are lies. They never touched. Another mistake. They should have explored every aspect of their intimacy while they had a chance. And now they are left raw and vulnerable in the face of some release. Left starving for the other.  


Over the years apart, Will’s imagination makes up for it.  


When his head hits his pillow at night, Will lets himself linger in the memories they formed together. Dreaming of what could have been -- his lips on his lips, his arms wrapped in his arms, his thrusts taking his breath away -- and when he awakens, Will has to bite back the sigh of his name.  


Nighttime isn’t the worse. During the day, making sure he is alone, out of earshot, he will let it slip out, his secret sigh. It calms him. Life After Hannibal is precarious. There was everything and then there is nothing. And that is when he’s being honest with himself.  


As he heads into the familiar halls of the BAU, Will hopes that Jack doesn’t notice how he’d dressed for Hannibal. All in black. A bulky, overlong shirt to hide any reaction his body may have to the sight of the man. His hair swept off his forehead in soft waves so Hannibal could see his scars, knowing without hesitation that every time he looks in the mirror he is reminded of their time together. “See me,” he is practically begging of Hannibal, since morality has his voice in a grip.  


Despite the glass wall, the intimacy that has always been between them knows no bounds. That’s what frightens Will now. Not all the horrible things that Hannibal has done to him, to Beverly, to their daughter and others. It is the ache that has settled in the scar tissue along his stomach that threatens to tear into his face and rip through the vice he has around his tongue.  


Now, Will longs for a deeper intimacy. A war is raging between his mind and his body, and he fears his body may win under this flame that is attacking his forts.  


He fears his heart may betray everything to get what it wants. Especially seeing for himself that Hannibal doesn’t hate him for his loss of freedom.  


If anything, his devotion seems deeper. The years forgotten. They could start again, as if nothing ever happened.  


Jack remembers everything though. Will stands before him, back in the belly of the BAU, and the memories rush back to him. How could they not? He knows Will called Hannibal to warn him. He knows Will went to Italy for Hannibal. He knows why Will went to see him.  


If anyone knows of his true feelings towards Hannibal, it’s Jack.  


If he can fool Jack about the flush in his cheeks after seeing Hannibal, then Will is truly a wolf among men. He will not lie if Jack asks. Jack is his friend too. He almost died in Hannibal’s pantry that fateful night.  


When Will was coming up in the police ranks, he used to hear the jokes about the women who would visit the killers in jail. Who would marry Charles Mason and his ilk? And why? Letters and panties and marriage proposals abound for these predators. But they are just men, after all. Needing, craving, consuming.  


Will wonders what they will say about him?  


Hannibal is the king of the monsters. And Will is his fool orbiting around a great and forbidden sun.  


Hannibal had sensed how desperately Will needed to see him. How irresistible a caged animal is to look at.  


The moment Will held his gaze across the glass he knew he’d have to set Hannibal free. Anyone could see Hannibal was at his breaking point. How much longer could he last like this? Especially if Will left him once again.  


Jack is staring at him, waiting for a response. Will catches himself.  


“Hannibal is my husband,” he wants to say. “He gave me a child and took her away. And still, I love him.”  


But Jack doesn’t ask what Hannibal is to him now. Apparently, he doesn’t care what Will needs or what his own agenda is to help him slay this Dragon. He only cares about the case and any insights Hannibal gave him. And so that’s the dance. He gives Jack what he wants, and hopefully, Jack will play along when the orchestra starts for Hannibal’s escape.  


+++  


He has never felt such intimacy until he finally holds Hannibal in his arms. It pains him to think about it. Penetrating his veins. Taking hold of every curve and valley of his being. That’s why he had kept him at arm’s length for so long. He would have been consumed by Hannibal’s touch.  


“…Hold him well,” Bedelia had admonished.  


Tears spring to his eyes whenever he thinks about it. If anyone were to accuse him of wanting to kill Hannibal, he would say it was an act of love. Of mercy.  


The world would not leave them alone. Would not allow them to be together so why stay. Why remain, if he couldn’t have the man.  
Of all people, it is Hannibal who has changed. The monster lurks, without question. But he can taste the man that he could have been, that he could still become.  


Their past shatters into a million pieces in the roiling Atlantic.  


They are cleansed.  


They are still clinging together when they surface and take the first breath of their rebirth together.  


Will never lets go even when a wave threatens to rip Hannibal from his embrace. Hannibal floats against him and leans his head into the crook of Will’s neck. He trusts that Will can decide whether to finish the job… or not.  


The tide sweeps them into the grooves of the rocks, gaining only scratches from their jagged edges. The boulders are exposed in the low tide. Will navigates them easily to shore.  


They are one as they sink into the beach of the cove, fumbling and gasping their way around this new heartland. Will can’t hear the voices anymore that tell him this is wrong and he should stop. He finds Hannibal’s mouth and steals his lips into his own.  


They are shaking, even though the sun is rising and the heat warms their skin. Their injuries and the cold are inserting themselves into their new reality. Life can be so cruel in its timing.  


The intensity in Hannibal’s eyes is usually directed only for him, but the world is fading around Will. Hannibal is frantic and savage as he stares up at the sky. Will tries to jerk himself out of the pull of the shadows, alarmed. If they are indeed alive, he never meant for it to end in this way.  


He reaches for him again to bring Hannibal close, but he grabs nothing but air. He feels death is sweeping down on him. A bird catches his eye, and seems to mock his descent into darkness.  


His last thought is his visit to Castle Lecter.  


Will knew that if Hannibal were to die, he would want to be buried beside his sister. He tracked down and reached out to Hannibal’s uncle over the years. Robertus had ignored his letters at first, and then their meetings became a source of comfort and connection. Will had promised to call him before the vultures could get Hannibal’s body.  


Hannibal recognizes the insignia on the helicopter and watches with dread as the sand halos around them. He crushes his body over Will’s as the copter hovers over them, realizing too late that Will has passed out and is sending him home.


	2. Friends and Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal's fate after the Fall is decided and ultimately tied to family.

Robertus has suspected that Will’s interest in his nephew transcended the mere specter of friendship. Nothing ordinary happens with Hannibal, and to his knowledge, Hannibal never had a real friend to speak of.  


He is more surprised at Hannibal’s level of emotion when it concerns Will’s well-being. Two medical personnel are onboard to transport what should have been Hannibal’s body, but Hannibal refuses treatment until they examine Will.  


Hannibal has only enough strength to stay at Will’s side and hold his hand. He wills himself to stay conscious long enough to watch the men work on Will and approve what they are doing. Only when he is satisfied does he let himself slip out of consciousness.  


This is not the Hannibal he knew. Concerned for another at the expense of himself? Unheard of. Practically weeping with relief when he’s told that Will would survive. What has happened to his nephew?  


It is one thing to convince a crew to transport a dead homicidal maniac. It is another to have them discover he is alive and with a man who clearly has a hold over him. This crew has been loyal to the Lecter family. For a price. What will happen when they touch down in New York and see the news?  


For a long time, there is silence in the cockpit. Even the medics await orders on how to proceed.  


It would be so much easier to let Hannibal die, Robertus knows. Clearly, Will had figured out the same.  


When he met Will the first time, it had been in Montreal. Robertus had settled there to forget and yet he had agreed to meet Will and talk about the past. Their talks had been… interesting.  


Will was clearly grieving Hannibal, and Robertus did not help matters by looking like a blonder, blue-eyed version of him. Especially when he knew how to tilt his head just so the light would catch the curve of his cheekbones. By the end of their meeting, Will was brushing back tears from his eyes with his thumb. It had been too painful for them both.  


Robertus realized much too late that he had used his resemblance to Hannibal as payback for Will drawing the memories out of him. He wanted to replace the cruelty with a kindness.  


He took Will’s wet thumb and kissed it, tasting his tears on his tongue. Then he placed his hand on his cheek and Will caressed it. He knew Will could image that it could be Hannibal’s cheek. He leaned in and stole a gentle kiss. Will’s eyes were closed again, imagining Hannibal’s lips. They were in public, and no one spat at them or grimaced. For Robertus, and hopefully for Will, it was just a natural way to part.  


Will needed to learn to take what he wanted from Hannibal, dead or alive. He knew this overture would be taken to the grave. He could already see that Will wouldn’t outlive Hannibal for long if Hannibal were to go first.  


In truth, he understood Hannibal’s attraction to this beautiful man. The image of Will sitting outside the café along a street lined with cherry blossoms, his eyes rimmed pink from his tears, challenged him long after he returned to his quiet summerhouse.  


In New York, they met again, and Robertus was torn. Chiyoh was convinced she needed to take Will out and Robertus had ordered that she stand down. Something told him that Hannibal would not like it if a hair was harmed on Will’s head, regardless if it was done for Hannibal’s own protection.  


Chiyoh was sent back to London to tend to her Lady, and Robertus remained in New York, awaiting Will’s call and putting all the contingencies in place.  


And now here they are. When Will awakens, he will want to know what had been done to save Hannibal. From what little Robertus does know about Will, he understands Will would deduce how Hannibal died and who had made the decision to put his death in motion. How would Will regard the Lecter family then? Will may appear slight and humble, but he is a lion who had tamed a monster. Their monster.  


Blood trumps inconvenience.  


Robertus signals for the medics to get to work on Hannibal and agrees to pay triple for their silence and “relocation” after this job.  


It is a grim trip as the copter approaches the familiar skyline of New York to refuel. Robertus gives the pilot new orders to reroute to his estate in a kind of No Man’s Land, at the Thousand Islands. His New World castle sits on a patch along the St. Lawrence seaway between upstate New York and Ontario, where pirates and bootleggers once smuggled their wares along the coves and bays.  


Hannibal and Will would have many options on where to go after they healed there. Will could determine Hannibal’s fate without any interference on his or Chiyoh’s part. The world would not be the wiser.  


+++  


In his dreams, Jack circles him, looking as if from every angle. Now he sees Will, the husband committed in sickness and health, ‘til death do they part. He sees the come-hither tilt of the head, the mirth in his eyes, the blush on his cheeks.  


There is no mistaking the menace in Jack’s voice. “What have you done?”  


Will gazes back at him, unflinching. And then he smiles.  


“Will,” Jack bellows. “What have you done?”

+++  


Will awakens, the sigh on his lips. “Hannibal?”  


Daylight is streaming through his window. A lighthouse stands at the end of the island, and in the distance, a hundred other islands, at least, as far as the eye can see, dot the beautiful blue water.  


The room is Spartan, the walls stone. An IV is attached to his arm. Robertus enters the room and reaches Will’s side. Will is dismissive of his own injuries. He only wants to know of Hannibal.  


“He has no organ damage. They were able to stop the bleeding. He’s getting plenty of IV fluids for now, Will,” his attempt at soothing him is not at all being received that way.  


“It was a gut shot, Robertus,” Will counters, his worry overriding any sense of courtesy.  


“The bullet passed through the muscles of the abdomen. He’ll be in bed for three, maybe four, weeks, but he should recover.” He doesn’t mention that it’s a miracle for Hannibal to survive this injury. That the surgery had been performed in the air, over New York.  


“I need to see him,” Will insists.  


“Of course.”  


Robertus helps Will to his feet, mindful of his own injuries and guides his weak frame around the bend of the bed. It is slow going down the darkened hallway.  


He has closed the wing off to the servants, local women who would be happy to gossip. He is considering if he can allow the house to not be tended for at least a month.  


Robertus gives Will a wide berth as he opens the door to Hannibal’s room. Will sidles up to the bed and leans near Hannibal’s face. He hasn’t expected Will to kiss his nephew with such reverence. The lesson he gave in Montreal was not forgotten. Will looks back at Robertus, grateful.  


Hannibal is in a drug-induced slumber and doesn’t stir, but the very air in the room changes. Robertus feels like an intruder in his home.  


Will crawls onto the bed and curls into the small space seemingly made for him. He wraps his arms around Hannibal’s frame.  


Robertus leaves them.  


+++  


Robertus shows Will how to clean Hannibal’s wounds and change his bandages and when to administer the drugs. Hannibal is not allowed to ingest any food by mouth while he’s recovering. With the rules in place, Will doesn’t leave Hannibal’s side.  


Robertus worries about infection – not just for Hannibal, but for Will and that Will is pushing himself ragged. He brings in a doctor from Montreal, compromised by not saving enough for his retirement, to check on their recovery.  


While Hannibal has awakened from time to time, he has never been completely lucid and seems to be delirious when the doctor stirs him. He has a slight fever and does not seem to know who Will is.  


“He’s trying to kill me,” Hannibal chokes to the doctor.  


Will is devastated by this. He clutches the scar on his stomach.  


The doctor gives an uncomfortable look between them and reassures Hannibal that Will is nursing him back to health. Quickly, the doctor checks the bedding and bandages and commends Will for the care that he’s shown him.  


Pneumonia may be setting in. They will have to eventually wean Hannibal off of the painkillers and overload him with antibiotics. But for now, they will keep him comfortable and sedated.  


Hannibal murmurs something in Italian about Bedelia. Robertus can see Will visibly blanch with rage. As he leads Will out of the room, Robertus reassures the doctor (for Will’s sake) that Hannibal never had a wife.  


This could be the opening Robertus is looking for. Will staggers around the grounds with him, as they both need some fresh air.  


“He will see what you’ve done for him when his head clears, Will,” Robertus hopes for the sake of them both.  


“And if he doesn’t forgive me – “  


“He would be a fool,” Robertus murmurs. They look out to the lighthouse. It will be getting dark on the island soon. The helicopter is on standby to transport the doctor back to Montreal. The smell of a burning fire fills the air.  


“Will, we may need to leave soon. There’s been so much traffic to the house. And Hannibal’s aunt feels we should move him to the Continent where she can care for him.”  


Will shakes his head, refusing to hear this. He knows this means that he is not invited to join the family.  


“What you’re asking me to do is impossible, Robertus,” Will says, firm.  


“Don’t you have someone to go home to,” Robertus reminds him. “Your wife, Will, is the one who needs to forgive you. Your son.”  


These are the ties that had kept him from Hannibal all these years. He cannot, he will not go back.  


“I’ve changed,” Will admits. “That life is gone. My life is with him now. Don’t come between us, not now.”  


A fair warning. Unfortunately, Will is endangering them all. He can possibly slip Hannibal out of the country. But Will? The weeks it would take to secure all the fake documentation and the inability to conceal the scar cutting raw into his face. With the FBI bounty on their heads, someone will surely report their whereabouts.  


He’d certainly rather have Will take Hannibal off of their hands, but he can’t trust Will either without speaking to Hannibal first. At a stalemate, he decides to drop the argument for now.  


Hannibal’s recovery is in jeopardy and he will need to discuss a regular schedule for the doctor to visit. He takes Will into the kitchen where the security cameras along the treeline of the island are displayed on multiple monitors. One of the monitors has a website tab left open on it.  


While Robertus is with the doctor, Will sees the page for Tattlecrime left open for his perusal.  


Jack has given Freddie the exclusive scoop. Straight from the FBI, the headline screams, the intimate details of the capture and kill of two cold-blooded serial killers. Slaying the Dragon had been caught on Dolarhyde’s film camera. As had the plunge off of the cliff. “Will Graham is a hero,” is one of Jack’s quotes. “He rid the world of two evils.” He is slinging the shit hard, as if he knows Will is going to read this one day. “We only want to recover Graham’s body,” Jack ends, “so we can honor every part of him.”  


Will looks over his shoulder, swallowing hard. Jack knows they’re alive.  


He curls his hands over his head and crouches low, shaking. He needs Jack to not haunt his every waking minute and every corner of his dreams.  


For a brief moment, he considers Robertus’ offer. This is the longest Hannibal has been out of his sight since they arrived on the island. Already, he is standing on shaky ground.  


He pushes back from the table and gathers his resolve. When Hannibal regains his strength, if he wants to leave without him, so be it. Hannibal will have to decide for them.


	3. Go Gentle

Hannibal feels the fog clearing from his eyes. It’s a gradual sensation, like peeling too many blankets off his warm body.  


He takes stock of his surroundings, unsure where he is and how he got there. It’s completely unknown to him, this bare room. The lighthouse stands in the distance.  


He takes stock of himself. His hair has reached his eyebrows. A soft beard has filled in. His tongue feels thick and foreign in his mouth.  


And then he realizes he’s not alone.  


For once, the surprise is welcomed.  


Will rests at his side. His guardian. His heart. His hand is wrapped tightly in his hand.  


Robertus enters the room and Hannibal closes his eyes again.  


This is not Europe, he senses instinctively, despite Robertus’ presence. And Will appears to feel safe, as much as that’s possible.  


“Will,” Robertus calls. “You need to take your medicine.”  


Will groans and crosses into the bathroom. They have developed a routine. Robertus waits for Will to return, fiddling around with the monitors and IVs.  


He runs his thumb along the length of the scars along Hannibal’s wrists. So many stories he doesn’t know about his nephew. More medicine is inserted into Hannibal’s IV and Robert makes note of the time it was administered.  


Will returns, freshened up for the pale winter morning. He runs a damp sponge along Hannibal’s back as they go about changing Hannibal’s bandages and bedding.  


“I’m going to town today,” Robertus manages. “Do you want anything?”  


Will appreciates how Robertus wants his company, but he has Hannibal, even if Hannibal is unconscious for the better part of the day. There is a tension between them that Hannibal immediately senses. “You’ve been so kind to us,” Will answers, as if asking for another thing would break Robertus. “When he awakens," even to Robertus, Will sounds strained, "he will need something to do. If you see some art supplies for a painting, pick some things up, but really, don’t go out of your way for it.”  


Robertus takes his leave and Will crosses to the window and watches as Robertus heads out on boat towards the mainland. It’s a beautiful morning on the water.  


Will doesn’t notice Hannibal’s eyes drinking him in as he moves about the room. His medicine begins to wear on him and finally, he crawls back into bed.  


Hannibal shifts his body towards him and Will finds his hand again. He finally lets his eyes fall on Hannibal’s face and sees him watching him. Will soaks in the clarity and recognition in his eyes. The look that says Will is the world to him.  


Will smiles, even though that is not something that should be permitted in his state. Hannibal smiles back.  


“You were so very tired,” Will sighs, stroking Hannibal’s neck. In the back of his throat, Hannibal’s voice catches in agreement.  


Both are overwhelmed as they stare out at the lighthouse, watching the boats flit along the water. Finally allowing them to hold each other without falling.  


Will leans in and touches his forehead against Hannibal’s. Their noses brush. Will lands his lips somewhere against the corner of Hannibal’s mouth. Their eyes are bright with tears.  


“You came back to me,” Will shudders in relief.  


Will throws his arms around Hannibal’s shoulders and stifles his sobs against his neck. He has ached for this moment.  


Will cranes his neck up and closes his mouth against Hannibal’s once more. Hannibal strokes Will’s hair that has fallen around his shoulders. They sink into a deeper kiss. Hannibal is starved for his touch.  


He tenses as Will’s hand runs up and down the length of his thigh.  


“Will,” Hannibal murmurs.  


His way of warning Will that he’s not going to last for very long if he keeps doing that. It’s been years. The last time was with Alana. In another life.  


His vision blurs as Will strokes him once, twice. His come splashes all over Will’s hand. His whole body shudders. It takes another languid kiss from his lion before he is aware of himself again.  


He motions for Will to draw closer to him. He has lost all sense of language. He is in a primal place now.  


He won’t hear Will’s protests about injuries and bandages. He only knows what he wants.  


He draws Will between his legs and relishes in Will’s desire. Hannibal holds his breath, feeling how hard Will is. Will cups his hand over Hannibal’s heart, hardening his left nipple between his fingertips, and Hannibal emits another sensitive, receptive moan.  


Their eyes meet and Will slides himself flush against the stickiness along Hannibal’s thighs, come dripping everywhere between them. He begins chanting Will’s name, begging for it.  


Hannibal pulls Will closer and then Will is inside.  


“Don’t leave me,” Will moans against his mouth.  


+++  


Robertus returns to the Lecter Island and catches the unmistakable sound of the two men in flagrante delicto. He wonders how he’s going to explain their injuries to the doctor this time he doesn’t know. He reaches for the phone to send the helicopter for Montreal.  


+++  


Hannibal and Will gingerly make their way towards the kitchen where Robertus pours himself a glass of wine. Their fingers dance around the other’s.  


“Hello, Robertus,” Hannibal greets him with a distant kiss on both cheeks.  


“You’re looking better,” Robertus observes. “You must be starving.”  


Hannibal nods, glancing at Will. “I need some iron. Anything with meat in it.”  


Will whispers in his ear, “I have someone in mind.” Hannibal realizes just how much Will has changed now. It is genuinely surprised that Will is a willing participant in that aspect of his life too.  


Robertus feels he’s interrupting a private joke between them.  


Will pulls away, finally leaving Hannibal’s side. Hannibal’s eyes track him through the large kitchen as Will rifles through Robertus’ stash from town. The canvas, paints and brushes are of good quality.  


Robertus warms some beef broth left by the cook who no longer cooks in his kitchen, but brings the dishes in, like a delivery service.  


Robertus motions for Hannibal to eat. “Your aunt would prefer to cook for you,” he begins. “When you are feeling stronger, we should send you to Europe…”  


Will looks over his shoulder, dismayed. Hannibal sets his spoon down and considers his answer.  


“Jack’s still searching?” Hannibal inquires.  


“Yes,” Robertus answers simply. “He has the major airports and cities covered. And my law enforcement friends have heard rumors he’s creating a special unit to hunt you.”  


“And what about Will?”  


“He is portraying Will in one way to the media,” Robertus continues, glancing at Will, knowing he read the Tattlecrime article, “but considers Will to be just as dangerous as you.”  


Hannibal stares down at his soup. “Smart man, our Jack.”  


Will hates how the air has been poisoned at the mention of his former boss. He waits for Hannibal to make a decision. Hannibal shrugs, “But I don’t think he’ll find us here.”  


Robertus extends his invitation, determining not to stay to find out. “You can stay here as long as you like, Hannibal.”  


Will smiles across the room at Hannibal’s tactful decline of the Old World invitation. Robertus makes note to not underestimate Will’s power over Hannibal again.  


+++  


Hannibal takes Robertus’ art supplies and creates a painting of a branch of cherry blossoms as he shakes off the last of his pneumonia. Will had asked him to make something in recognition of their becoming.  


Just as the paint dries, Hannibal presents Will with the painting. Will knows a perfect place to hang it.  


“We need to pay Bedelia a visit, Hannibal,” Will tells him. “As I want to create a gift for you.”  


+++  


The bandages come off as their strength returns. Robertus wants to ask what their plans are, but they imply that they will only be gone for a short amount of time.  


“Unfinished business to take care of,” Will maintains, giving an air of mystery about their brief respite from the island. Giving Robertus ample warning to leave.  


Hannibal’s painting is loaded into the trunk of the car. They will wait for the ferry to take them onto the mainland. Robertus will copter back to Montreal and leave the estate for their pleasure.  


Hannibal bids farewell to him brusquely. “Thank you,” he says. It startles Robertus. It is the last thing he expects to hear from Hannibal. Suddenly, Robertus embraces his nephew. Will watches the awkwardness melt between them, amused.  


Their time together has changed both of them, for the better.  


+++  


Will takes down the painting in Bedelia’s living room and hangs Hannibal’s in its stead. He steps back and admires the tableau he’s creating.  


The dining room is exquisite, set with the finest china atop of Hannibal’s handcrafted dining room table. The presentation of the roast is a work of art in itself. Right down to the candlelight. And Bedelia has never been as beautiful as she is now.  


Will wants to bring out the sides to go along with the roast, but even Hannibal is moved by how romantic the setting is.  


“You’re doing this for me,” Hannibal says aloud, still unable to comprehend it.  


“I love you, Hannibal,” Will tells him.  


He grips Will’s arm, essentially stopping him from returning to the dining room, and gathers him up in his arms.  


He cannot wait until after dinner. He presses Will up against the counter and tugs at his tuxedo tails. Will gives a throaty laugh against his chest.  


“The food will get cold,” Will teases.  


He leans down and devours Will’s mouth and slips his hand into Will’s trousers. He knows this will be additional torture for Bedelia, listening to their lovemaking. 

Hannibal is especially vocal tonight.  


Hannibal’s trousers pool around his ankles and sits down on a chair, pulling Will on top of him.  


Will straddles his legs around Hannibal’s waist and lets Hannibal guide his hips. Hannibal is not gentle with him. He is so hungry, so determined to make up for years of lost time. Or recreate the time when they were one, over and over again.  


Hannibal has changed. It is no longer about the food anymore. Or making Will into his image.  


Who Will is, who he has become, is enough for him.  


Will is his life.  


They are whole, together.  


One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. This was my first fic, first post, first first, etc. So many writers on A03 inspired me to pop my fic cherry. It was fun and I may have at least 2 more stories in me, if you so desire more hackery. Keep hope alive for Season 4.


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